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Round and Round

At this point we have a pretty good idea of how things run. Today Sid braved the snow in the wee hours of the morning to head to the Huntsman where he finished up treatment #5. Physically he's going to feel rotten for a solid 4-5 days. By about Tuesday night or Wednesday morning he'll start to feel better and see continued, gradual improvements. About a week out (the weekend following treatments) most of his symptoms have resolved.

His work has been awesome and very understanding. He works from home right after treatment and they are fine with him deciding how long after chemo he needs to do that before he feels up to going into the office again. 

The weekend after treatments and the day or two afterwards are nice. But the relief of feeling well physically is tainted by the dread of starting it all over again in just a few days. I know he feels it very strongly on the day before and I've noticed high levels of stress and anxiety in myself on that Thursday knowing what's coming.

I'll admit the "lows" of this process are full of frustration and exhaustion. 

Last night we got to go to an Aggie basketball game as a family. All four kids rocked it and we loved watching them get excited over everything. You'd have thought Christmas came early by the way they cheered when we said we could ride the "excavator" (escalator) they could see through the Spectrum window.


Those simple, everyday things have become very dear to Sid and me. Obviously a cancer diagnosis puts things into perspective and the important things of life truly become important. But even more than that we love the everyday stuff because it helps things feel simple. We think about "what ifs" and symptoms plenty on our own. We especially love when we can get lost in the moment with our family or chat with friends about each other's kids and simple goings on. Getting a mental break is a gift.

Sid has 3 more treatments and then he'll get some tests to see how things are going. Once we get the results back we'll find out what the next phase will look like. It's a bit scary waiting in that limbo, but maybe not knowing what the next phase looks like yet is helpful in not biting off more than we can chew. For now we plan on soaking in the Christmas magic.


This weekend might be on the bottom of the chemo ferris wheel but we have a lot of things - and people - drawing us back up to the top.



"The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend;
He knows our need, To our weakness is no stranger!
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King! your King! before him bend!"

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